


fly, fly away little pretty bird

by lakeshoredive



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Stevebucky Vormir addition, it all hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:46:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakeshoredive/pseuds/lakeshoredive
Summary: He's never dealt in absolutes before. Not when he was battling every ailment known to Brooklyn in the dead of winter, not when Erskine chose him for the serum, not when he was leading the Commandos or the Avengers or the secret Avengers. He's never been one-hundred percent absolute on anything in his life. Not even when he realized what real love felt like.But like aliens coming out of a portal in his sky over Manhattan, there are firsts for everything.This is his first absolute: he will be the one to jump.In other words, the Stevebucky Vormir that no one but my sad twisted mind asked for.





	fly, fly away little pretty bird

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle your seat belts folks this one hurts. Please tell me what you think, or even just drop a kudos. I'm desperate for validation.
> 
> Title is taken from the song, "Pretty Bird" by Crooked Still. Listen to it while reading for maximum feels.

Steve never considered himself a man born for greatness. He was simply a man with a moral code and a mean right hook.

A good man? Perhaps.

A living legend? Maybe.

In his core, all Steve's ever wanted to do was _save_ people, to stand up for the little guy because he _was_ the little guy, once upon a time ago. He might be not be the little guy anymore, but he's looking at someone who is. 

Bucky is yelling at the Red Skull, or the desolate ghoulish version of him, demanding _what the hell do you mean soul for soul?_

Steve understands why Rocket and Nebula were apt about _not_ volunteering for Vormir. Steve knows what this means. Bucky does too, but he's trying to find a loophole. Steve can see is mind turning over itself, assessing every angle, every possibility. Bucky has always been whip-smart, always been better about seeing the big picture, exhausting every option before daring the most reckless. Bucky has always, _always_ been the fail safe to Steve. 

But. 

There is no loophole this time. 

There is no cheating, no bargaining. There are only absolutes. One of them will have to jump. 

One of them will jump, and one will return with the stone. 

He's never dealt in absolutes before. Not when he was battling every ailment known to Brooklyn in the dead of winter, not when Erskine chose him for the serum, not when he was leading the Commandos or the Avengers or the _secret_ Avengers. He's never been one-hundred percent absolute on anything in his life. Not even when he realized what real _love_ felt like. 

But like aliens coming out of a portal in the sky over Manhattan, there are firsts for everything. 

This is his first absolute: he will be the one to jump. 

He can't let Bucky do this. He won't. These are absolutes. 

"Buck," he says softly. Too softly. Any lesser man wouldn't have heard him. But this is _Bucky,_ who has fought wars and horrors no man should ever face, who has spit in the face of death and come out on top, a little more than bruise and a little more than broken, but on top; who had his life stripped from him, and was just getting it back. 

He whips around, eyes narrowed into a glare he hasn't seen since the forties, a glare that said _I know what you're thinking and don't._ _This ain't a fight you're gonna win Steve._

Steve knows he won't win. There are no winners. Not on Vormir. But that doesn't mean he'll _lose._

" _Buck,"_ he says again, firmer, more inflection to his tone. His 'Captain America Voice'. A voice Bucky hasn't heard since the forties either. A voice that says _It's my way or the highway, pal._

Bucky rolls his shoulders down, giving off an air of relaxation that was betrayed by the fear that crinkles around his eyes, the frown that tugs on the corner of that beautiful mouth. For the second time in his life, Steve knows he'll have to fight Bucky. This is another absolute. 

"I'm beginning to think," Bucky starts. His hands are twitching at his sides, "that you and I have a different view of how this'll go down." 

Steve spares a glance to the cliff's edge. "Oh I dunno. Seems like a pretty sure view to me." He tries to smile, but it comes more of a grimace. Bucky chokes on a wet laugh, shaking his head. It's not funny. Nothing about the situation is funny. But that doesn't stop the swell of hysterical laughter that threatens against Steve's lips, trapped behind teeth.

"Punk," he mutters. 

Silence falls, the air is too still, and Steve sees the exact moment Bucky is tensed to move. He charges then, so fast his feet practically glide across the rugged ground. Bucky goes down with a yelp, and they grapple like school boys. It reminds Steve of them as kids, knocking elbows and clanking heads until Steve's lungs threatened to give, or until his ma told them to knock it off with the threat of no supper (she was, of course, never serious, but it was a surefire way to get them to behave). 

Bucky gets him pinned, unsurprisingly. He is, after all, a highly trained assassin, and Steve _knows_ first hand how brutal he can be. 

"Steve, _Stevie,"_ he pants, his grip tightening past the point of painful. "You know why it's gotta be me. You _have_ to." He pressed Steve harder into the ground, and flies off him before he can get a word out. 

Bucky might've always had his fail safes, but Steve has learned a little something about what the word _contingency_ means.

He pulls out three Widow Bites, and flings then at Bucky, two landing on the metal arm; the third catching him in the middle of his hamstring. He lists hard to his left, convulsing on his way down. He's writhing on the ground as Steve scrambles to him, ignoring the guilt pooling in his gut. Bucky has managed to pry off the one on his leg. He's working on the other two when Steve hauls him by the back of his tact suit, dragging him away from the cliff. The farther he can get him away from the edge, the better. 

"Steve, goddamnit that was _low,_ " he hisses as he peels off the last Bite, uses Steve's own momentum against him and toppling them again. For his trouble, Steve receives a swift hit to the jaw, one he returns in kind. 

"Never claimed to fight fair, Buck," he grunts through an elbow to his solar plexus. 

Bucky slammed his head down against a rock, and Steve sees stars. "Yes," another punch to the jaw, "you did. Fists only remember?" There's a deep, haunted pain in his eyes with every hit. He yearns to make it disappear. 

Steve manages to get his legs hooked with Bucky and flips them. "Sure, that was before I knew what assassins where," he remarks, breathing heavily. He doesn't deliver any blows, not when he sees taut in anticipation. Guilt threatens to slither its way up his throat. Only one of them will leave Vormir, and it won't be Steve. 

He's back to absolutes. Hurting Bucky hadn't been an absolute. Steve never wants to hurt him. Not now. Not ever. He only wishes there were more time. 

Bucky is squirming underneath him. Steve steels himself with a sharp intake before pulling Bucky up and throwing him into the jagged rock wall. Steve uses his moment of stunned immobility to use his own body as a makeshift hold. They're so close now. Vormir is so _silent_ the sound of their breathing feels monumental, like waves crashing against the craggy outpost of a lighthouse. 

"Bucky, I have to do this," Steve tightens his hold as Bucky tries to break his. 

"You don't. Steve you _don't,"_ Bucky's voice cracks, and Steve nearly shatters with it. He stares into Bucky's eyes and Bucky stares back. There's a challenge there. "Haven't you proved _enough?_ _"_

_No,_ he thinks, _no I've never proven anything._ His body proved the serum worked. He, _Steve_ hasn't proved anything since Bucky fell off from the train. _All I had to do was hold you._

"I'm not letting you fall again," and Bucky looks absolutely _wounded._ "I can't, Buck." He whispered. "I won't." 

Bucky's expression went flat, not unlike the flat expression of the Winter Soldier. "You might not have a choice," he said through clenched teeth. Steve smiled softly then. 

"I'm Captain America, it's my job to ensure the freedom of _choice,"_ he slammed his hand against Bucky's metal wrist, holding it there until there was a _WHIRR CLICK_ as one of his cuffs settled into the rock. 

"StarkTech," he stepped away. "Designed to hold anyone anywhere until this," he held up a small circular key fob, similar looking to a Widow Bite. "Is pressed. It's the big button in the middle, by the way." 

"Steve," Bucky was yanking at his arm. It wouldn't budge, Steve knew. It had been tested on the Hulk. "Let me out. let me out of the goddamn cuffs Steve so help me-" 

He stepped close again, gently taking Bucky's right hand and cradling it to chest, not wanting him to yank his shoulder out of his socket. " _Bucky,"_ he breathes, and the fight leaves him all at once. He's gasping against Steve's chest, head placed firmly in the crook of his neck. His hand claws for purchase on the quantum uniform. Steve doesn't know what to say. Apologize? _Sorry I'm about to go kill myself. No hard feelings?_ He has a feeling he'll be socked in the mouth. Instead, he just holds Bucky, who's mumbling into the skin of his neck, choked off pleas of, _let me out. Stevie it has to be me. Please, God let it be me._

But he can't. He won't. Because- 

Because- 

Because he loves him. This is an absolute. 

"I have to go now," he whispers. _I love you._ He doesn't say. Perhaps he should. 

"Stevie, please think about this. Your team needs you. They need Captain America. They-" 

"They have a Captain America," he looked pointed at Bucky, his heart twisting at the tears streaming down his face. 

"No. Absolutely not. I ain't Captain America. Release the cuff," Bucky spat. The fire in his eyes burned so bright Steve fought the urge to cower from it. " _Enough_ with your self-sacrificial _bullshit!_ " He was back to yanking at the cuff, slapping his arm against Steve's chest. 

"Listen," he grabs his shoulders to still him again. "Listen to me, you're gonna get back with the stone and bring everyone back." He paused for a moment. "Help Sam with the shield when you get him back okay? Promise me." He knew Bucky wouldn't want to be Captain America. Bucky hates Captain America, has since Steve pulled him off that table in Azzano. 

"No, please, Steve I-" fresh tears were rolling down his face. His hands itched to wipe them away. 

"Promise me, Bucky," he whispered. He could see the resignation, the soft rapt of his knuckles against this sternum. It wasn't giving up, it was acceptance, the most painful kind. 

"I promise," it came out croaked and quiet. There was nothing else to say. Nothing except- 

" _I love you_." 

Bucky sobbed, clung harder to his chest. Steve's could barely feel his own tears rolling down his cheeks like molten lava. "I love you too, you dumb punk." 

That was all he needed to hear. It was going be okay. He was going to okay. Not now, but eventually, Steve knew Bucky would be okay. He wrenched himself away, ignoring the cry that tore from Bucky's throat and sprinted toward the edge of the cliff. He could barely hear Bucky's screams over the blood pounding in his ears. 

Whatever it takes. That's what they said. 

He wasn't afraid. Not really. 

They would bring everyone back. That's what mattered. 

He jumped, spinning mid-air to throw the key fob to Bucky, and let gravity take him the rest of the way. 

Then he was in free-fall. 

This wasn't like the Valkyrie. 

He opened his eyes and saw his ma, in her nurse's uniform, eyes tired, but determined and proud. _My boy._ Then came Peggy, red lips pulled into a soft smile, asking for a dance. The Howlies were gathered around him, cracking jokes and slapping his back. He saw Colonel Philips salute him and Dr. Erskine raise his drink. _Thank you for being a good man, Steven_ _._ There was Bucky from before, when war was only a whisper among the men at the docks, with his hair short and curling at the top, and his dancing shoes on. He was smiling and laughing and urging _C'mon Stevie, think of all the dames out there tonight._ And as the ground rushed closer, a thin, frail hand reached for him. Little Steve Rogers, just a kid from Brooklyn with more sense of justice than is weak body could handle was standing with his jaw set. _So we did it huh?_

 _Yea,_ he thinks. _Yea we did._

He clasped onto that outstretched hand and met the ground with a smile. 

_Fly far beyond the dark mountains_

  
_To where you'll be free evermore_

  
_Fly away little pretty bird_

  
_Where the cold winter winds don't blow_

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I don't own these characters. All rights to marvel.


End file.
